First book? Maybe Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger (even though that might not be my favorite Salinger story).

3. What are you listening to right now?

The entire Decemberists catalog, anything Jack White does.

4. If you could delete one word from the English language, which one would it be?

I know the common answer here is usually "moist," but I actually think "finger" is a little more weird. Just say that in your head a few times. Finger... Finger... Yeah. See?

5. Suppose you could travel to any place in time and history. When and where are you going?

Italy during the Renaissance, for all the art and brilliance that was coming out at that time.

FIRST PLACE... @TiramiSue84

I could feel the loneliness in this one, her loss. And I could feel her shrugging it off to the world, closing that tender hurt away so that no one would know any better. "I'm fine." That felt real to me.

The sheets feel cold, the bed too big.

Maybe it's just me, though. When you left, you took more with you than clothes and furniture. Without my consent—like the thief that you are—you stole a huge chunk of myself, as well. So greedy and sly...

It's been months since you went out that door to trade me in for someone else, yet, that missing chunk never grew back. It's not that I don't know how to cope and manage without you – I do. I'm fine.

Most of the time.

It's just... the traces you left on my skin, on the remnants of my heart that remains in my chest, I can't seem to get rid of those. I can't erase them. Or you.

I can still hear your voice, can taste your skin and lips on my own. It's not just memories... it's all still here.

Is it the same for you? Do you think of me when you are with her the way I think of you whenever I'm with him? Even now, sleeping in the same bed, he and I are separated by miles because of you.

As much as I want him to, he can't compare.

SECOND PLACE... @2old4fanfic

I don't know why I love the idea of this forbidden lust the little brother has for his older brother's wife, and the sort of auditory voyeurism going on... I just do. I can hear the bed-thumps and soft-squeals through the walls, too.

You were in white, the first time I saw you.Back from my year studying abroad, home in time for my big brother’s wedding.You wore blue, tiny denim cutoffs, back from your honeymoon, your legs lean and tan, showing off the new tattoo on your hip, a sideways 8, the infinity sign. Emmett had the same image inked on his shoulder.You wore red, at my parent’s house for their anniversary party, the short dress wrapping you like a gift.You wear nothing in my bed, nothing but a smile after I’ve done everything I’ve dreamed of, filling you with my hungry tongue and cock. I feast on your breasts, your red lips, taste the sweetness between your legs. I hold your head in my hands like a treasure, your chocolate hair flowing through my fingers.I wake wearing white sheets, twisted through bare legs. My parent’s house is big, but I can still hear the thumps and squeals coming from the room you share with your husband tonight. Doing the things I can only dream of doing with you, night after night, alone in my bed.

THIRD PLACE... @darlingveruca

I like that I think maybe there could be a second chance for these two. It feels like they maybe both want that chance. Who are Del and Matty? I want to know more about them. I want to hear the secrets.

When Del closes her eyes there is a fraction of a moment she thinks she can feel him beside her. It’s warm, warmer than it’d be if he wasn’t. There’s even a little dip in the mattress, and that soapy scent that’s so him is there on the pillow. Imagination is a pretty powerful thing and right now she’d rather not be logical.Del’s always been this way - growing up with fairies in her garden and animals talking back to her, but that was different. Kid stuff. Right now, though, she’s wishing it were all true.She lies there, completely still, until the moment is gone.“I would’ve listened to you tell me about things you don’t think I think are important,” she says around the ache. “I would’ve played with the hair on your chest. I would’ve have kissed your shoulders, your neck and your lips. I would’ve done that thing you like – twice. I’d tell you all my secrets, Matty.”He’d forgotten a suit way back in the closet when he moved out last week. She wasn’t supposed to be home.

His hands are trembling even in pockets as he leans against the door. “So, start now.”

CONGRATULATIONS @TiramiSue84!

I look forward to seeing the prompt you choose for next week's #fanficflashfic.

Friday, March 22, 2013

This week's judge was the lovely @katiewinkles. I asked her my usual questions...

1. What is the best piece of writing advice you’ve been given?

This is really tough. I'm a bit of a closet writer, so I've never really had anyone give me advice about it. I guess rather than being given advice, I take my cues from the people I love to read. Write what you want the way you want. I feel like AlbyMangroves (bless her) might have given me some pretty good writing advice, but I have a brain like a sieve and couldn't even tell you what it was.

2. The first and last books you fell in love with?

Jack and The Robbers was the first book I remember being read over and over as a kid. If anyone can find a copy I'd happily pay through the nose for it. The last book I got viscerally upset about finishing was Days of Blood and Starlight. I threw the finished book across the room and sulked for a good half hour. And I know it's been said 5890243 times, but I'm still shoving The Fault in Our Stars in people's faces like "READ THIS IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!!" I can't even see the words self-aggrandizing without getting wobbly-lipped.

3. What's happening outside the nearest window?

The one window in this room faces the house next door - if I looked I think it would be considered rude.

4. If you could delete one word from the English language, which one would it be?

Wow. I'd say moist, but I think it's probably *this* close to being scratched from the English language as it is. Maybe LOL, since it's addition to the Oxford Dictionary just highlights the rapid decline of our society and the awful misuse of the English language. (I use it totes too much - LOL - jokes).

5. Suppose you could travel to any place in time and history. When and where are you going?I would say my wedding day. It's hideously cliched, I know. I would make myself listen to my dad's speech after dinner. I was pretty tipsy by that stage and kept thinking about how long he'd been talking, rather than actually listening. It was one of those "OMG, Daaaaad!" moments. But if I'd known then he'd only be around for a few more months I would have paid more attention.

"Wowzers there was some serious gut-wrenching going on. I LOVE IT. I love that the prompt was interpreted so differently to what I thought it would. This was SO hard. I seriously loved them ALL. Can't we have thirteen winners and then thirteen prompts? Can I just have a first and a second and then eleven honorable mentions? No? Bummer."

*drumroll*

FIRST PLACE... @runtagua

I loved the little nuances in this one. I could SEE her. It was like James Bond's 'Casino Royal' but with this shit hot femme fatale in his place. I have no idea if that end hand even won her the money - I don't play poker - but I don't care! The little things like her tugging on her earlobe and stubbing out the cigarette as she blows out that last puff of smoke - WHO IS THIS WOMAN AND WHY AM I NOT HER?! She oozes nonchalance and cool and yes. I really liked this one.

She watches the dealer place the last card on the table - the king of hearts. She takes a drag off of her cigarette and idly tugs at her earlobe. She’s bored; or that’s what she wants the other players at the table to think.

A call and a raise – the betting goes around the table until it finally gets to her. She simultaneously stubs out her cigarette and blows the hit of smoke out into the stale air. She pushes her last fifty thousand in chips into the center of the table.

All in.

Her eyes flicker up, over the heads of the faceless men at the table, to the man across the room, and down again. He’s been standing at the door, watching her. Watching the cards. Just as the dealer calls for the players to reveal, he leaves. His job is done here; a plan to meet later.

This is it. This is what they’ve been working for all night.

The cards are turned out onto the table. A pair. Two pair. Three sevens. She sits up straight as she turns her two cards over.

Pocket kings.

SECOND PLACE... @AnnaLund2011

This spoke to me from the first few words. It really did. The idea that men are sometimes scared by strong, intelligent women has always been something I believe, and this just paints a perfect perfect picture of that kind of woman. Heck, she intimidates ME!. And this: "Are you leaving me behind?” SWOON. A strong, assertive female always gets my vote.

Is there not a one among them that measures up? She’s too intelligent, too beautiful, too much.

Most influential men are scared of smart women, and here she is, the epitome of brilliance and beauty.

There is not a one among them who dares approach her.

Lighting up her last cigarette, she leans her chin forward into her left hand, deciding to give it another 6 minutes of her precious time.

The curse of being a bright and beautiful woman is you often end up sitting alone at your table. Other women avoid you; the men are afraid to approach you.

She puts out her cigarette, gets up to leave, miniscule purse in hand, walking smack-bang into a young man who has been watching her a long time, with a twinkle in his eye.

“Are you leaving me behind?” he asks, with one raised eyebrow.

“Do you want me to?” she answers.

“No. I don’t. I want you to lead me out of here,” he says, looking straight into her eyes.

His long, shiny, black hair is twisted into a tidy ponytail and he looks like he might be 28.

That happens to be her favorite age on a man.

HONOURABLE MENTION... @CallMePagliacci

OMG. This one was lovely lovely. This; "a dandelion seed on the breeze", and; "locked in place like a sparrow in front of a rattlesnake". I wanted him to remove his arm from the booth SO BADLY. Beautifully written, and perfectly delivered.

He’s here. I didn’t come into this bar to find him, I didn’t seek him out. But he’s here. He’s here, and my plan to move on is shot.The other men, all likely candidates for just-a-little-fun, cease to exist.I glance over. Cigarette smoke floats by, a dandelion seed on the breeze. Only people this hip still smoke.There. In a booth in the corner. The sharp, square line of his jaw flexes as he speaks. The other people at the table laugh. I’m staring, locked in place like a sparrow in front of a rattlesnake.I study him, looking for the same circles that are under my eyes, the same tired slump my shoulders are bent under.A woman walks up to the table and sits next to him. His arm had been resting along the edge of the booth above her seat. He doesn’t move it. I watch, and he doesn’t move it.My gut twists. Heart pounding in my chest, I jump up and throw a ten dollar bill down on the table; it won’t cover my martini here. It’s nothing, I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’m gone before I can find out.

HONOURABLE MENTION... Sherbert2011

I do love a good strong female, and if she's an undercover agent/spy then I might love her even more. Also, the words "Little black dress. Little black soul," kind of sucker punched me. And the line about keeping the shaking on the inside - that was brilliant too. Very very cool. Plus, any woman who turns down a man named Edward is a stronger woman than I, and for that I applaud her.

I don’t really want it, but light a cigarette to look the part.

Little black bag.

Little black dress.

Little black soul.

The bellini is almost gone, I’ll need something stronger, after. And breathe, to keep the shaking on the inside.

Warmth settles behind me, “buy a pretty girl a drink?”

I twist towards it, distracted by the voice, not the words. Behind him, the mark is on the move.

“I’m sorry, I was just leaving,” and glance, dropping a smile while the stub suffocates in the ashtray.

“Are you here for the convention?”

“Sure,” why not. The hotel is flooded with attendees, one more won’t matter.

“Medical, actually, but you know, I really was just leaving.” I reach for my bag looped over the chair and find my hand covered by his, warm and smooth. “I have a thing right now, but I’ll be back later?”

Breakfast conversations will carry the unexpected death of a noted scientist. Neither his dark past, nor the hypodermic in my bag will be mentioned.

“Will you tell me your name at least?”

“Bella.”

“Edward.”

In my head it sounds like alibi.

CONGRATULATIONS @runtagua!

I look forward to seeing the prompt you choose for next week's #fanficflashfic.

Thank you to @katiewinkles for judging, and to everyone who participated.

Friday, March 15, 2013

Second time judge @verucadarling had eleven gorgeous entries to read this week.

Here are her winners:

FIRST PLACE... @katiewinkles

I fell in love with this one the second I read it. The description of the little moments that would've gone unnoticed by everyone else were really everything to these two people.

Theirs was a stolen moment beneath twinkling lights; eyes that met across the room for half a heartbeat.

Her brain said wait. His heart said look again.

A look was all it took.

The tiny space inside her chest could barely contain her heart as it took flight, a hand fluttering to her chest, her fingers meeting flushed skin and a trembling pulse between her collar bones.

Her lips parted, the corners lifting, and across the room the curve of his mouth answered; I know. I feel it too.Nobody turned to look at them; no one even noticed a thing. But for them – time stopped. And in that moment it was like the world fell away, and all that was left was the burn of his gaze and the thunder of her heart.

Her feet said go, move, every cell of her body reaching for him.But it was he who moved first, unable to stop his legs from carrying him to her.

It wasn’t epic. They would never write books about it. In years to come they would forget exactly how it happened.

In the end, a dozen heartbeats and two smiles was all it took.

SECOND PLACE... @CrackedFic

Nicely done conveying the scene strictly through dialogue. Not knowing anything about Scully and Mulder, since I"ve never seen a single episode of The X-Files, it didn't matter. The tone and imagery was set up perfectly through the characters' speech. Really loved the originality.

"They're fireflies.""Fireflies?""Yup.""Lined up like that? In perfect rows?""Yup.""That's ridiculous.""Yup.""But how?""No one knows.""No, I mean how do you know they're fireflies.""It's obvious.""Enlighten me.""If you don't see it, you won't see it.""You're infuriating.""Yup.""I'm staring at this thing and all I see are strings of Christmas lights.""That's what you would see. You're you.""Quit talking in riddles, dammit.""I see a photograph taken on May 13, 2011, from a street in Melbourne, Australia. Look at the date imprinted on the back.""OK. I'm looking. And?""Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Mercury were aligned that day. It was visible only from the southern hemisphere.""And?""You don't find it odd that these fireflies chose to align into ellipses nearly identical to those the planets travel in on the very day those planets were aligned?""You haven't proven this picture shows fireflies. It still looks like Christmas lights to me.""That, Scully, is because you have no imagination. Zoom in on the picture. Keep going. More. That's it. Now what do you see?""Fireflies, Mulder. I see fireflies.”

THIRD PLACE... @magtwi78

The details are so lovely yet still leave room to the imagination. Also, tell me what happens next, please!

The cool breeze tickled her bare legs like the kisses that stole her sleep the night before. With her toes pressed into her party shoes and her shawl wrapped tighter, she stood, silent, under the artificial-starlit sky. In the open-ceilinged room full of people, she let the wall’s shadows hide her from the oppressive air of celebration that swam all around her—but never quite reaching her. She caught smiles from the party-goers, throwing an occasional one in return, and watched them tip bubbles down their throats.

Never had she felt so alone.

The fever in the air grew closer as the hour did. The twelfth chime and the falling of the sparkle-studded sphere this time would signify so much more than just a page turning on a calendar.

Twisting her own transparent stem between rose-tipped fingers, she held the glass aloft to see the shimmering lights distort through the golden liquid. The people around began to chant; the reverse mantra of a kindergarten class. She whispered a silent toast to herself.

When she lowered her glass, the cheer was rousing.

And there he was. Her next toast was lost in his kiss.

HONOURABLE MENTION... @CallMePagliacci

Hot, freshly-wet asphalt,Rubber and dust.Sweet summer rain.A dance and a drink.Twirl me about and twirl me ‘round.We smile, you laugh, And you lean in.Lean in.Lean in... Our lips touch. We’re the only two people in the world.We stumble through the streetsDrunk on spiked sweet tea and new love.Mardi Gras swirls around usRevelers Buzzing cacophony. I can’t get you back to my apartment fast enough.Your hand is clammy, solid in my own.I pull you down the sidewalk,under the year-round Christmas lightsin a part of town where it’s not tacky.My tipsy cottony mental fuzzThe lights unfocus and Blur.They shineLike sparksLike the sparks that fly when your lips meet mine again in my doorway.“I love you.”

Congratulations @katiewinkles!

I look forward to seeing the prompt you choose have chosen for next week's #fanficflashfic.

Thank you to @verucadarling for judging, and to everyone who participated.